Of A Future
by Asidian
Summary: Years before the start of the series, Hisoka struggles to control his powers... if only to block out the hatred that he's come to know so well. Angst.


Author's Notes: This must be some kind of record. I'm averaging a story a day. -I'm- afraid... who else is? ^^  
  
Oh yeah, and... Today was supposed to be my writing-Hisoka-torture day. But one of my reviewers on the other story asked me not to. Soooo, I settled for heavy angst instead. ^^ I'm actually feeling bad for this, so I think I'll have to make it up to Hi-chan soon.  
  
Warnings? Uhm, angst. People being mean to Hi-chan. Crappy title. Suggestions are welcome, btw... I'd appreciate it!  
  
That's it-- enjoy!  
  
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Of a Future  
  
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The rain was heavy outside; clear streams streaked the windows, cast their reflections about the dark little room. The patterns were strange and shifting, mingling with the stark black of cell bars that were so unyielding; against the grey of the walls, it seemed as though the small room seethed with shadow.   
  
The only inhabitant of the basement lay on his side against the wall, half-curled in an attempt to keep the world at bay. Not just the rain, or the shadows, but everything beyond: the choking terror of one of the maids, who'd always hated storms. His father's annoyance at having a payment delayed. Disappointment, boredom, numbness, grief. And above it all, the vague and distant repulsion for that -thing- in the basement, the monster that they were powerless to be rid of.  
  
And so the child tried harder, squeezed his eyes closed in an attempt to close them out as well. But the emotions trickled in, as they always had, and he was powerless to stop them. Repression, guilt, longing...  
  
Clenching small hands into fists, Hisoka bit his lip as the tears came, quietly at first, and then in wracking sobs that shook his slender frame. They ran hotly down his cheeks, the only thing warm in the grey of the basement, damping the ground below him where they touched the floor. It hurt that they kept him here, and the child cried with the pain of it; he cried because he was so very alone, because he was doing the best he knew how, because no one would ever know how hard he was trying. And the tears were falling harder, because no one would come, and nothing would change, and-  
  
The man's emotion's gave him warning. Disgust. Stronger than the rest, almost a physical sensation. Fear. Resentment. Very, very close. Hatred.  
  
Swiping quickly at the tears that stained his face, the boy tried to push himself into a sitting position, almost reeling with the force of the emotions that were so near. Staring with wide green eyes, the child watched cautiously as the heavy door to the basement swung open, revealing a dark figure against the warm glare of light.  
  
A step, and Hisoka could make out a shadowed face in the light from the window. An employee of his father's. Despite himself, the child half-stood to move forward; the man brought him food sometimes, and it had been coming less frequently of late.   
  
"Stay there," the man commanded harshly, and Hisoka sank back to his knees. But even the distance between them wasn't enough to keep from knowing his heart.   
  
Disgust. Hatred. Biting his lip, the boy struggled to keep down the whimper forming in his throat. Monster. When the man set a small bowl beside the cell, the child shuddered and used the wall for support, forcing back tears. Not worth the time to feed it. Closing his eyes, Hisoka wrapped slender arms around his frame and waited for the man to leave. Just let it die...  
  
The man was halfway up the stairs leading from the basement before Hisoka managed to stop shaking, and it was fully five minutes before the child felt strong enough to stand. He did so shakily, moving to the edge of the cell and falling to his knees by the little bowl outside. He worked it through the bars with trembling hands, clutching it almost desperately as he retreated to his corner.  
  
The rice was cold, but Hisoka wouldn't have cared if it was going bad. He scooped it up with shaking fingers, gulping it as fast as he could manage. Some part of him wondered how long ago he'd last been fed, but it was a fleeting thought, one that he couldn't answer, and quickly abandoned in favor of simple gratitude for the meal.  
  
It was gone all too quickly, leaving the boy to stare regretfully at the now-empty bowl. He wished, almost, that he'd thought to save some; more and more lately, it seemed that he was fed when someone thought to remember him. It wasn't often.  
  
Setting the little bowl beside him, the child lowered himself to the ground, curling in to preserve warmth. The emotions from above were still present, but after the violent hatred that had been so painfully near, the others were background noise, a vague and distant hum.   
  
Sighing softly, the boy forced himself to relax, to hear the low growl of thunder instead of focusing on feelings that weren't his own. If not full, he at least wasn't desperate anymore, and the rain outside wasn't as cold as it should have been for this time of year. Upstairs, they were hating him less; drawn into their own tasks, they could safely forget about him.  
  
This was about as good as it ever got.  
  
Inaudible over the pounding of the rain, Hisoka whispered a prayer: to dream of a future beyond grey walls and the constant, aching loneliness. And then, closing bright eyes once more, the boy settled himself to try and sleep.  
  
~owari~ 


End file.
